With Bollywood celebrating its 100th year anniversary earlier this year, young Indians like myself are overdosing on information about how our cinema started. A few google searches later, I realise that Lollywood and Bollywood are a typical case of co-joined twins, separated by necessity but joined in essence.

Did you know we watched Devdas together as one nation? Dadasaheb Phalke’s Raja Harishchandra is a name and heritage we share and can laugh at together. Much like with all co-joined surgeries where one twin emerges stronger than the other, Bollywood is a far more prominent name in the global entertainment industry but what the Radio and Lollywood is to Pakistan is something that Indians will never understand or be able to appreciate and Qissa Khwani Bazaar gave me an insight into this.

In the course of Partition/Migration (as some refer to it) a lot of the talent pool and technological equipment that supported the film industry of the nation before 1947 chose to stay or move to India leaving the entertainment industry in Pakistan crippled. And then, around midnight of 14th August 1947, Mustafa Ali Hamdani bellowed “I am speaking from the Pakistani Broadcasting Corporation”. I bet every Pakistani alive then felt an electric shiver go down their spine – I had goosebumps just thinking of it. It was the first bond Pakistan forged with technology.

Radio Pakistan acquired a position of dominance as it guided the people through the floods that came shortly after Independence and it was the “mulkh ki awaaz” (the voice of the nation) through the Migration, the ’65 war and the ’71 war. Later, the Lahore and Karachi Stations improvised and the Radio became a community platform to talk about daily issues and maslas (Urdu word for problem). The Pakistani film industry had to start afresh and Radio Pakistan was the training ground for the artists that later went onto star on telly plays (novel only to a 21st century kid) and the silver screen - it was through the Radio that they learnt to act and emote.

Techniques remained the same – the sound of running horses came from the walls in Lahore and Bombay, recordings were done in one take, editing meant cutting tapes and physically rejoining them. The Old Days were the same for everyone.

India’s cinema history doesn’t have such strong community ties, although we love very passionately and madly our Rajnikanths and Amitabhs. While the Indian cinema scope is fast changing and has been daring with subject matter, its impact is not as intense as that of Radio Pakistan, which held a nation together. (Rang de Basanti is a different matter altogether).

Of the two co-joined, one definitely is stronger, more prominent, better known. But the other has become to its people a forum that gives them a sense of identity. It has grown with the nation and is exclusively theirs – not shared with anyone. It feels good to have something to call completely your own!

One thing must be said about Pakistan, no matter how much talent anyone leeches from you, you continue to spew one beautiful star after another. I’ve always wanted to say this – nothing is more beautiful and pleasing to the eye than a Pakistani face. That beauty is something Bollywood cannot take away from you, you gorgeous people.

The Citizens Archive of Pakistan pays tribute to Peshawar’s Qissa Khwani Bazaar through storytelling sessions over the course of 3 days at Kuch Khaas, House 1, Street 1, F-6/3, Islamabad and Faiz Ghar, 126/F, Model Town, Lahore from 20th – 22nd June 2013.

The event covers different aspects of Pakistani history and culture, with the first day dedicated to the theme of Partition and Migration, the second day to early years of PTV and Radio Pakistan and the third day seeking to track the Evolution of Pakistani cities.